Highway To HEDoubleHockeysticks
by windscryer
Summary: If they survived this, Gus was going to kill Shawn. No slash.
1. It's Totally The Heat

Burbank tried to kill me this weekend and, like any true writer, I used this life experience to write a story. o/ HUZZAH!

Disclaimer: Not mine. I'd so have tried to kill them like this already if it was. :D

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"Gus?" Shawn panted.

"Yeah, Shawn?" Gus replied, just as breathless.

"Do you remember when we were kids?"

Gus gave serious consideration to the effort—and, more importantly, heat energy—that would be required to answer the question, then decided that it was worth the possible distraction. "We were kids for eighteen years, Shawn. Can you be more specific?"

Shawn made an uncertain sound as his brow furrowed. Gus knew that if his friend was a computer, he would be on the verge of shutting down to protect himself from heat damage. Gus was tempted to do so himself, except that sleeping in this kind of heat would not be comfortable in any sense of the word. Especially here where they were more likely to be found by vultures than certified rescue personnel.

He thought about waving a hand to dismiss the question and decided that was way too much energy. "Never mind. Why?"

"Summer of '85. Do you remember that?"

Gus whimpered.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Distraction came, but not the kind that Gus had been hoping for.

Instead of forgetting about the heat, he had lost the thread of the conversation as his brain recalled the horrific summer of their youth when temperatures soared, reaching a record high of 109 degrees. Gus didn't know what the current temperature was, but he would not have been at all surprised to find out that it was close to—or higher—than that.

He could feel his tongue shriveling up from lack of moisture—which was doubly torturous since that missing moisture was leaking out of his pores in the form of sweat. If that had actually been doing anything to cool him down he wouldn't have minded, but it wasn't. Instead he was even _more_ uncomfortable because he was sweating like a damn pig and it was too humid for the sweat to evaporate. It just clung to his skin, trapping in heat and giving him the impression that he might actually be melting.

Nature could be a cruel, cruel bitch at times.

So could the corrupt owner of a pet store who had been stealing pets and selling them to a cosmetics research and development lab for testing purposes.

It didn't help that Shawn had been completely _wrong_ about said pet store owner. If he'd used his damn 'gift' and 'seen' that she was behind all of this, they wouldn't have trusted her and she wouldn't have been able to siphon their gas and send them on a wild goose chase that ended like with the two of them roasting to death along a road that ran straight through the middle of nowhere and was, apparently, never traveled on.

Oh, and it was in a cell phone reception barrens thanks to the hills that separated it from Santa Barbara and any other signs of civilization.

They hadn't really had many options—despite taking a good forty-five minutes to discuss their lack thereof—and now they were walking back along said road under a burning sun with no sign of shade or water or help in sight.

If they survived this, Gus was going to kill Shawn.

A small part of his brain noted that Gus had been present for all the meetings with their dog- and catnapper just like Shawn and he'd never suspected anything either. Also, as driver, Gus should have checked the gas before heading out of town, even if he _had_ filled the tank up this morning. Gus shut down that little voice because it was wasting energy and not helping.

He didn't care if it might be right.

"Shouldn't we be thinking of cold things?" Gus asked when he remembered there had been a point to all of this talking.

Shawn gave him a _Look_. "Like, penguins and slushies and..." Shawn swallowed, voice getting fainter with longing. "Pineapple smoothies? Ungh," he whimpered. "Guuuus!" He flailed a hand and hit Gus in the arm. "Why would you torture me like that?"

"Because that's what you're supposed to do, Shawn! Think of cold things to try and convince yourself you're not that hot."

"That makes no sense, Gus. You're supposed to think of hot things so your brain is like, 'Oh yeah. That was _way_ hotter than this right now. Man, I'm so glad I'm not stuck back in 1985 when it was _really_ hot!'"

"How does thinking of hot things help? You're supposed to be distracting yourself."

"And thinking of cold things you can't have does this? I don't think so."

Gus wanted to retort, but the part of his brain interested in self preservation shut down his vocal cords. It was just too damn hot to be arguing—or doing anything but stumbling back towards civilization like a zombie hungry for a nice fresh brain.

He frowned and wondered where that particular thought came from, then gave up with a sigh. Now he was starting to suffer from delirium. Fantastic.

And then his ears started humming, like a very large fly, but not really. Delirium was now morphing into full-blown hallucinations. Any second now he was going to just fall over and lay there on the side of an abandoned road, weakly trying to crawl toward a salvation he'd never reach.

Unless he already _had_ fallen and _this_ was the hallucination.

Something grabbed his arm and he looked down to see it was Shawn's hand.

"Don't touch me," he said weakly, trying to shake free. It was too damn hot to be touching. That and he was pissed at Shawn for getting them killed.

"Gus!" Shawn said breathlessly. "Gus, we're saved!"

Gus squinted at the road, but shook his head. He didn't see anything at all. "Shawn, you're hallucinating. There's nothing there."

"Not yet! But there's going to be."

Gus stopped walking and grabbed Shawn's arm when he tried to keep going.

"Shawn, it's the heat. You're hallucinating."

"No, Gus," Shawn said with a laugh, "I'm psychic!"

Gus stared, then shook his head and turned to start walking again. Shawn had cracked. The heat had fried his brain and it was now Gus' responsibility to try and get back and tell their story so Mr. Spencer had closure. And tell Lassiter and Juliet about that damn pet shop owner.

He'd probably end up testifying at the trial because this _had_ to be full-on murder now and Gus would see justice for his friend. It was the least he could do.

Shawn caught up and Gus watched him with a frown when he realized Shawn was almost skipping—if in a sort of uncoordinated, seemingly drunk kind of way. He shook his head. Poor Shawn. Gus just hoped that the hallucinations would make this whole dying thing easier for Shawn.

Gus grimaced when he realized the humming was getting louder. He took a few more steps, then sighed and stopped walking. There was no more point in wasting energy. Instead he started searching his pockets for a pen and some scrap of paper on which to make a brief account of their demise and rewrite part of his will. Shawn, obviously, would not be inheriting anything.

He found his pen and a receipt from lunch and started to bend over partially to use his thigh as a desk when the dehydration and exhaustion took its toll and he nearly toppled.

Shawn grabbed him and they steadied each other.

"Gus, what are you doing, buddy?"

"Leaving my DVD collection to my sister. And making sure they know who to charge for our murders."

Shawn laughed again and then clapped Gus on the back. That sent them both down to the ground, Gus wincing when the hard gravel and hard ground dug into his knees.

"Shawn, please let me write this while I'm still coherent or it won't be legally binding."

Shawn just laughed harder. Gus tried hard not to think about the slightly manic edge to it.

Gus did his best to ignore Shawn—who was laying on the ground now, the little moisture he had left leaking out of his eyes as tears—and began writing. His handwriting was atrocious from the trembling, but still legible, he hoped.

He signed it, thought about asking Shawn to witness it, then decided that he wasn't legally able to do so and gave up, tucking it into his shirt pocket.

Then, he laid down, closed his eyes, and prepared to die.

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Review, plz&thx, and I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP.


	2. All's Well That Ends In The ER

Thanks for all the love in the reviews, guys! Here's the second half! :D

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"There! Theretherethere— Carlton, _STOP!_"

"I see it," he said as he applied the brakes and pulled the wheel to bring them onto the shoulder. They were still moving a little bit when she jumped out and as soon as he had the car in park he joined her, running around the front of his car to where the two limp forms were stretched out in the sun.

He felt a rush of panic that they were too late and cursed the meeting with the mayor that they had been in that had run over—and, more importantly, that had forced him to silence his cell phone. If it had been on, they would have known sooner and—

"I've got a pulse!" O'Hara said, then breathed a sincere prayer of relief. "Oh thank God! Shawn! Can you hear me?" She started slapping his cheeks and after Carlton was sure he felt a flutter under his fingertips he did the same to Guster.

"Shawn! Come on! Open your eyes for me!"

A groan and a grimace and then Spencer gave in and cracked his eyelids, revealing a hint of hazel underneath.

"Jules?" he croaked.

"Dammit, Guster, wake up!"

Spencer's head flopped to the side and he stared at his friend, almost immediately trying to push up for a better look. "Gus?" His attempts to speak must have used the last of the moisture in his mouth because he began hacking and coughing, curling up against the effort to make his lungs work.

Carlton scowled at the way Spencer's already red face—and, yeah, that was going to be a really painful sunburn—darkened with an influx of blood from the stress of not being able to breathe. His hand flailed out and Carlton grabbed it, bracing the younger man as best he could until Juliet returned with a bottle of water from the car.

She and Carlton levered Spencer up. "Shawn," she said in a voice meant to calm. "You have to breathe. I can't give you water if you're coughing. You'll choke."

He nodded and made an effort to quell the spasms that stole his breath and hurt a lot if the look on his face and the tears gathering in his eyes were any indication.

She rubbed his back and Carlton glanced at Guster, but there was nothing they could do for him at the moment. Spencer was conscious and in more immediate distress.

Finally he managed to get a good deep breath and overcame the coughing. He sucked in a few smaller desperate breaths as O'Hara coached him through remastering what should have been an involuntary reflex. When some of the blood had drained from his face and his shaking was more from shock than coughing, she placed the mouth of the bottle against his lips and tipped it up slightly.

Shawn lurched forward in an instinctive attempt to get more of the cool liquid, whimpering when she pulled it back.

"Take it easy or you'll puke. Sip it, Shawn."

Shawn didn't seem to be able to do that, though, so she just held it out of his reach and dribbled water into his open mouth a little at a time. She stopped after a bit and they eased him back down, his eyes closing as he panted.

"Gus?" he managed after a minute or two.

"He's alive," Carlton said. "We need to get both of you back to a hospital."

Shawn nodded and tried to push up again.

"Whoa! Easy!"

He gave it his best shot, but it was only with help from both Carlton and O'Hara that they were able to get him up and into the back seat of the car, O'Hara going in first to pull him in the rest of the way.

Carlton opened the front door long enough to adjust the air conditioning to high and aim the vents properly, then left O'Hara to cradle the barely conscious Spencer while he went back for Guster, hauling him into a fireman's carry and depositing him in the front seat. Another minute to secure the seat belt and shut the door, then Carlton rounded the front of the car and got behind the wheel.

O'Hara was murmuring to Spencer in the back seat, running fingers through his hair to soothe him in between more sips of water, but she met her partner's concerned gaze in the mirror. Carlton said nothing, but nodded and maneuvered the car around in U-turn, then floored the gas back to town.

o.o

Shawn lost consciousness shortly after they got into the hospital. He really tried to stay awake, but it just wasn't happening. It was probably okay, though, because Lassie and Jules had found them and he and Gus were going to be okay.

So he let go and fell back into the black.

When he regained consciousness again, he was aware of two things: He wasn't thirsty, and he was cold. He took a moment to savor both of those, then opened his eyes.

He was still in the hospital, still in the ER in fact, but the rest of the bustle of the ward was blocked off by a curtain. An IV ran into his arm, saline and electrolytes probably, and he'd been stripped to his shorts. Now warm-ish ice packs lingered in slightly awkward places, but he was no longer unbearably hot, so he guessed that was okay.

He blinked and pushed up slightly when he realized he heard familiar voices in the cubicle next to his.

"Hello?" he tried to say. He ended up coughing again and winced as it pulled on muscles sore from his last attempt to evict his lungs.

The curtain was ripped back and he saw Juliet and Lassiter talking to Gus who was set up much like Shawn—only with a sheet pulled up to his waist. Shawn wondered how one managed to get one of those.

Then he realized Gus was _awake_ and his eyes locked on his best friend's.

"Hey," Gus said, waving briefly.

"Hey," Shawn said, relaxing back against the bed as it sank in that they were both okay. They'd survived.

"Shawn!" a concerned voice said, and then Juliet was there next to him, Lassiter appearing behind her after a moment.

"How are you feeling?" the latter asked and Shawn couldn't help the quirk of his lips.

"Concern, Lassie? I'm touched."

Something dark and angry flared in Lassiter's eyes. "You were almost dead when we found you," he said bluntly. "Whether or not I like you, I don't want you dead. Most of the time," he added when Shawn raised an eyebrow.

Shawn let the brow drop and smiled again.

"Thank you." His eyes flicked back to Juliet to include them both. She returned it as she flicked a sheet out and let it settle over him.

"I'm just glad we made it in time. Which, by the way..." She slapped Shawn's arm above the IV.

"Ow!" he protested, though he was glad she'd done it on the part of his arm that wasn't a painful red and covered in a clearish green goop that was probably an aloe gel of some kind. It felt awesome, though—except the sticky part.

"What were you thinking, Shawn?" Juliet demanded.

"He wasn't," Gus said with a dark look.

"Not when he suggested that you two go after the thief yourselves," Lassiter agreed. Then his head bobbed to the side. "The text to inform me of your location, however, was surprisingly intelligent."

Gus' brow furrowed as he looked at Lassiter, then his gaze shifted to Shawn. "What?"

"Shawn sent me a text announcing his stupid plans and giving me the road you two intended to take," Lassiter explained. "That's the only reason we found you."

"Then what took so damn long?" Gus demanded, anger shifting.

Lassiter ran a hand through his hair, but it was Juliet that explained, looking guilty.

"We were in a meeting with the mayor and both our phones were off. We didn't get the texts until we got out and turned our phones back on."

Shawn shrugged. "Better late than never, right?"

Gus went back to glaring at Shawn. "Why didn't you mention this? If you knew help was coming, we should have stayed at the car."

"I didn't want to wait? It was a nice day for a walk?"

"It was not—"

"But mostly, I didn't think it would take that long. And then I began to think they hadn't gotten my messages at all—that or something had happened to them too—and waiting around for help that might not come didn't seem very smart either." Shawn shrugged. "I'm sorry, Gus."

Gus sighed and shook his head, his anger melting away. "It all worked out in the end, I suppose."

Shawn smiled, relieved. "Yeah, it did! That's the spirit." Then he snapped his fingers. "Oh, hey, the thief is—"

"We know," Lassiter said. "Guster had a, uh, note, in his pocket."

Shawn blinked, then laughed. "Oh yeah. His 'will'."

Gus glared. "I thought we were going to die, Shawn!"

"Gus! I'm offended! You didn't have enough faith in me?" He pouted.

"No, Shawn! I know you too well for that! Besides, you were hallucinating."

Shawn arched an eyebrow. "I was not—"

"Shawn!"

Shawn groaned and slid down into his bed at the sound of his father's voice.

Juliet and Lassiter smiled and started backing away. "We'll just leave now," she said.

"Jules! No, wait! Aw, come on!"

The curtain separating their cubicles from the main ER area was ripped back and Shawn flinched and tugged the sheet upward as if it might shield him.

Lassiter waved with a little grin and they escaped as Henry launched into a tirade. Gus bravely stepped up and tried to take some of the heat, but it only drew attention his way and then the shouting was being delivered in equal portions to both of them.

Shawn sighed and settled in for the long haul, glancing over at Gus to see he was looking back. Shawn smiled and Gus shook his head, but he returned it.

Truth be told, for a while there he'd had his doubts they'd get out of this one alive. But they had, Jules and Lassie coming to the rescue as usual and, okay, maybe it hadn't been one of his best ideas. So he let his father yell and lecture and vent his concern.

And while he was busy with that, Shawn plotted how best use this to con his dad into making him pineapple upside down cake.

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The end! Yay! \o/ Review, plz&thx.


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